


Moonlight

by Propernicethat



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/M, Female Solo, Masturbation, Romantic Fluff, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:02:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3765718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Propernicethat/pseuds/Propernicethat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Petite hands. Elaborate sandwich making. </p><p>He knew he never should have looked though the crack in the door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jute_moth on Tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Jute_moth+on+Tumblr).



> This was a piece of writing during one of my LiveStreams. Very different from what I usually write, thought I'd try taking myself out of my comfort zone.

He knew he never should have looked though the crack in the door. 

It’d been that fateful night.

There’d been a powercut and the second and third generators had busted out. The Administrator had admitted defeat and had bunked herself off to a hotel nearby. This had left Miss Pauling in quite the predicament. It was too late to call home to her little apartment and her family hadn’t heard from her in years because she was forever working. In the end, she’d decided to bunk up with the Mercs. There had been a spare room offered too her, [ Despite the Scout offering his own room repeatedly. ] and she’d taken it. She’d dropped her bags off and indulged in dinner with the boys. It’d been quite the sight, every man for themselves with a hint of politeness depending on which Merc you looked at. The Spy ate at a distance, knife and fork tenderly catering to the food on his plate. The Medic and Engineer weren’t there at all, no doubt having taken their food elsewhere while they worked. Sitting next to her was the man who’d prepared her food. 

Misha. The Heavy.

He had these deep gentle eyes, and a kind face. Despite his size he’d always spoken to her so softly. He’d prepared the food lovingly and carefully for such large hands. Dainty toothpick holding the petite sandwich together. Miss Pauling finished the meal, not leaving a crumb, it’d been years since she’d had something so lovingly handmade, having lived on takeaways or food to go, always on the job, on her feet and keeping up with the Administrators demands. No wonder the woman was so thin! 

When they retired for the night, Miss Pauling, after cleaning her teeth made her way back to her room. It was warm, so much so that even with the window wide open it was stuffy. She left the door open a crack before removing her clothing, down to the silky little purple number she wore beneath her uniform. A light lilac embraced with a touch of ivory, curved around her average sized breasts, holding them well and creating a balcony for her cleavage to rest in. Her panties were matching, a simple silk material framed with more crescents and swirls of ivory. Those emerald eyes glanced to the door, not nervous but cautious, it was dark out in the hallway and if she turned her light out nobody would see. Slowly she lay down on the top of the mattress, rolling onto her side, then to the other, eyes wide open as she removed her glasses. 

She couldn’t sleep. She found herself staring at the ceiling, glasses replaced back onto her petite little nose as she sat up, pressing her back to the bed frame. She shifted a glance to the door, as one thigh would spread, while the other leg would bend at the knee. She thought back to dinner time, those large hands. She’d watched the Heavy put the sandwich together. Despite it being so small and delicate, he effortlessly crafted it, fingers so diligent and gentle, with just the right care and pressure to make the meal look and taste perfect. She imagined those fingers on her body. Lips parted, tongue sliding out to dampen them as she’d slowly slide her fingers down to her crotch. She traced the outside of her panties, stroking her slit as she imagined his hands now stroking up to hold her neck. She imagined his lips, inches above hers, murmurs of Russian tongue against her lips as he kissed her. And his mouth! Oh his mouth was just as gentle as his hands. She rolled her hips, parting the fabric and pushing a finger inside, tracing her clit as she imagined gasping for breath as they parted lips. She leaned back, thinking about what he’d do next. Those fingers would unknot the bounds of her hair, sliding the band away and releasing her tendrils, silky soft as they waterfalled down her back. She did the same with her free hand, hair sliding down against the headboard as she rocked her hips against her single intruding finger. 

Misha couldn’t sleep. 

He kept thinking about those dainty little lips, how teeth so eloquently nibbled on the sandwich he’d lovingly prepared for her. It had been years since he’d been in the presence of somebody so appreciative of his handiwork. Her hands had been perfect. Nails clean of any dirt despite her profession and her hair had smelt like fresh flowers, feminine and sweet. She’d laughed at his intelligent conversation, indulged in theories with him and they’d discussed music pieces and Opera. Medic never had time for such trivial conversation, and he ended up leaving the man who hadn’t even noticed he’d gone. Even the Scout had left them alone, everyone had gone about their conversations and left them to it. 

The Heavy was wandering, he couldn’t sleep and he often took a walk outside. It was too hot here and with the power out the Engineer wasn’t even able to hook them up with any air conditioning units. He’d walked down the hallway and around the base, eventually coming to the end corridor which lead downstairs to the MedBay. He knew the Medic would still be awake, perhaps the German would indulge him with a conversation. However, the one door he passed was ajar. Miss Pauling’s room.

He knew he never should have looked though the crack in the door. 

The Russian couldn’t help it, just to gaze upon her sleeping face. It was dark, no doubt he’d just be able to work out the outline of her features. As he carefully sided up against the wall, he turned his head and took a peek through the gap. His lips parted and his eyes widened at what he saw. The moon was shining though her wide open window, the light glimmering behind her frame. Hair splayed out, thighs open to reveal her glistening folds. Her head held back, glasses crooked, eyes closed shut. She was smiling, breath hitched and knees bent. He saw everything, how those fingers worked between her folds, how her body trembled and hitched as she revelled in her fantasy. 

Those blue eyes of his grew sad and his face and mind wracked with guilt. He took a step back, unable to remove his gaze from the scene before him. She looked so pure, so beautiful, the moonlight only accentuated her beauty. It outlined and enhanced her porcelain skin, she was positively glowing. He could stay no longer, turning and stepping away, instead of going to the Medbay he chose to go back to his room.

He left just a moment too soon, for as her form convulsed and as her head knocked back, lips parted as the pleasure rolled through her very core, she whispered just one word. One name.

“Misha.”


End file.
